


Make the Fireflies Dance for Me

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Lie Low At Lupin's, M/M, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he's in Azkaban, it's the memories of kissing Remus that keep Sirius going.  When he gets a second chance with Remus they realise that old habits die hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Fireflies Dance for Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/gifts).



> Written for Daily Deviant's Kinky Kristmas for Mindabbles

The first is high up in the Astronomy Tower, a fumbling, hopeful connection of lips together – the kind of kiss that takes them both by surprise.

“Can I?” Remus licks his lips, his tongue flicking over his lips which are damp and plump. “Can I just…?”

“Yeah,” Sirius replies. He means _fuck yes_. He means _please_. He means _if you don’t kiss me again I’m not sure I’ll know how not to kiss you anymore_. Then Remus presses close and their lips meet again. 

Not a surprise this time, but no less unexpected. The tickle of light stubble against Sirius’ chin, the way Remus opens his mouth to Sirius. Remus is so pliant when Sirius slides his tongue inside his mouth, their gasps of breath meeting in the middle of the darkened space while the world moves a hundred feet beneath them and the trees of the Forbidden Forest shiver and twist in the distance. 

There’s too much between them. Too many shadows and too many unspoken words and the kiss feels too big for them both. It’s all Sirius can do to keep himself tethered by twisting his hand in Remus’ hair and drawing him closer so there’s no space between them anymore.

“Moony…fuck.”

“I know.” Remus does know. Sirius can feel it in the smile that curves against his lips. He can hear it in the breathless note when Remus speaks. He can feel it in the flush of Remus’ cheeks as he brushes his thumb over his cheek, the skin hot beneath the pad of his thumb.

They collide together again, in the half-light of the moon. The midnight encases them as their lips move together with unhurried want. They have all the time in the world. The night is theirs and even when his backside hurts from sitting too long on the cold floor, Sirius doesn’t plan to break the kiss any time soon. Remus pushes Sirius back and _oh_ it’s a whole new kind of kiss. It’s a kiss with the full length of their bodies pressed together. When Remus breathes out Sirius’ name it sounds incredible. He noses along Sirius’ neck, breathing in the scent of him and letting out a jagged exhale against the sensitive skin on Sirius’ neck. It’s almost wanton, the sound that leaves Sirius. He tips his head back and holds Remus there; hand fisted in sandy hair and murmurs of _gods, yes_ falling from his parted lips.

Remus pushes against him, firm bodied and sinewy hipped. His cock is hard against Sirius’ thigh and he’s seeking friction as he kisses Sirius again – open-mouthed and eager. They roll on the dusty floor and Sirius doesn’t give a fuck about the cold, hard ground anymore. He just wants to be kissing Remus, holding his chin steady and guiding him closer into another needy snog.

It’s just a kiss, but for Sirius it’s everything.

*

They kiss a lot after that. They kiss against walls, pushing against one another and groaning into one another’s mouths. When Remus speaks, Sirius can’t stop tracing every twitch and curve of his lips with his gaze. They kiss through a scorching summer and another rain-damp autumn. They get grass stains on their robes as they move together on ice-cool grass – their shirts damp from the dew of the early morning. They kiss away the cold and they perspire under the warm remnants of summer’s setting sun.

Sometimes, Sirius stumbles over the words he wants to say to Remus. He learns how to speak with a hundred different kisses and the stroke of his fingers over warm flesh. He says all the things he thinks he’ll have years to articulate with firm fingers on Remus’ jaw and lazy moments in the shadows of Hogwarts. 

It’s enough, Sirius tells himself. Besides, he has years to find a way to say the words.

Sirius calls them the boys who kiss and it becomes their private joke. It’s not enough to capture what the kisses really mean but in other ways, it’s everything they’ve become.

*

It’s the memory of them that keeps him going when he’s in the darkness, living off rats and lukewarm porridge.

Those kisses used to make his head spin and his body flush with heat. The first kiss was the start of many: tongue-heavy, delicious and each one filthier than the last. Sirius spends endless nights losing himself in the memory of Moony’s cheeks rough with stubble and the slow tease of his tongue licking slowly into Sirius’ mouth followed by gruff, heart-stopping sounds. 

When Azkaban is a far-away place that keeps Sirius from sleeping at night, he tells Remus about the kisses and how they kept him sane. 

“You saved me.” He says it when they’re drinking brandy and full from a hearty home-cooked meal. “When I didn’t think the nights were going to end, you saved me.”

“I didn’t do anything. Not as much as I would have, if I’d known.” Remus is contrite – older now but still so familiar it makes Sirius’ chest tight. He’s been sent to Moony’s on Dumbledore’s instructions and they catch up on the past over bottles of wine and discussions late into the night, by a roaring fire and hidden away from the rest of the world. Remus can’t sleep either. They both have horrors lurking in the darkest recesses of their minds which make their stomachs churn when the lights go out.

“I’d have done more,” Remus repeats. 

_The memory of you was enough_ , Sirius thinks. Even when he doesn’t say a word, his gaze lingers and he’s sure his expression speaks volumes as he watches the way Remus’ lips curve into a slow smile. Remus seems to know exactly what Sirius is thinking about even when, after all of this time, Sirius still can’t say the words.

“Sirius.” It’s gruff and husky, rough with desire and the barest hint of a question. 

“Remus?” Sirius lets himself smile as he used to before it all – wide and star-like in the hope that even after years in Azkaban he can still make Moony’s heart stop with the right kind of look.

“You’re drunk.” Remus sounds quiet, uncertain. His voice is still low and broken as he huffs out a _this way madness lies_ sort of breath. “We both are.”

“Are we?” Sirius shifts closer to Remus because really there’s too much space between them. There’s never been space dividing them. Even before the kissing they would always be touching or hugging or something which kept them physically connected. Joined at the hip, James used to say. Sirius can almost hear his voice and laugh in the quiet room. “Takes more than a glass or two of brandy these days.”

“I’ll bet.” Remus shifts and his lips are damp and warm on the curve of Sirius’ throat. His voice muffles as his teeth graze over Sirius’ skin. It warms the air around them until Sirius can’t stand the hesitant brush of lips for a moment longer.

“Besides, I always felt drunk around you.” Sirius doesn’t mean to say it out loud but then Remus huffs with laughter, hot against his neck. The exhale of breath makes Sirius shiver and he tugs Remus closer until he’s smiling too. “You know what I mean.”

“Maybe.” Remus knows, of course. He might not be saying he does, but Sirius can tell by the way Remus hauls Sirius close to his chest that he feels it too. “Never thought we’d have a second chance.”

“Never thought we’d need one.” Sirius’ voice falters and words really are too much. They’re too large and difficult. Too likely to bring up memories he doesn’t want to recall when Remus is firm and solid flesh and bone beneath his fingers. There’s the light scent of chocolate and musky cologne, soap clean skin and the lingering scent of wood burning in the fire. Sirius stops any other conversation by kissing Remus as he’s imagined he might, so many times before.

Their lips seek one another and their mouths open as a rush of breath leaves Sirius’ parted lips. Moony tastes like brandy and the past, his lips firm and sure and his hands gripping onto Sirius as if he never wants to let go.

Kissing is different now they know that people die.

Kissing is different after the horrors of Azkaban and a hundred lonely nights beneath the watery light of the full moon.

Kissing isn’t just kissing anymore, or perhaps it never was.

Sirius pushes his hands into Remus’ hair and draws him closer. It’s just enough. Enough pressure. Enough promise. Enough suggestion that maybe this time the kissing won’t be enough for either of them.

They kiss until the fire flames away to embers, until the brandy glasses sit empty and unwanted and their clothes fall from their bodies in a rush of eager hands, lips and tongues. 

When he looks into Remus’ eyes again, Sirius can almost see the shadows of Hogwarts and the lights from the past reflected in his eyes. He wonders what Remus sees when he looks at Sirius. 

“I never stopped loving you,” Remus says in a whisper and it tells Sirius everything he needs to know.

Remus can see his heart. Bare and open, beating just for Remus and their stolen moments by the fire, fueled by the memories of two boys kissing under a starlit sky.


End file.
